


The Many Well-Kept Secrets of Prof. Enjolras

by cx_shhhh



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Domestic Fluff, Enjolras is internally an old man and can't work technology, M/M, Professor Enjolras, Students, They're married in this one, Zoom - Freeform, grantaire's birthday cats make an appearance, soft grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25651105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cx_shhhh/pseuds/cx_shhhh
Summary: Everything sucks about quarantine except for the part where the students discover there's more to Professeur Enjolras than his great hair and educational rants. Namely, his husband.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 260





	The Many Well-Kept Secrets of Prof. Enjolras

There are professors who constantly fumble with their technology, accidentally muting themselves along with their students. Stereotypically, these professors are old men who carry briefcases and wear tweed. Literally nobody at Sciences Po expected their beloved Prof. Enjolras to belong to that particular group.

The class groaned at having to suffer through lectures on Zoom, but listening to Enjolras’s rants while staring at his _luscious_ blond hair or getting lost in his intelligent and _gorgeous_ blue eyes was a definite plus. Well, that and the fact that the silver ring on his left hand hinted at potentially meeting the person who has the enviable privilege of calling Professeur Enjolras, “husband”.

* * *

Enjolras is really a one-of-a-kind professor. His knowledge on political science is expansive and deep, and his ability to learn necessary skills at the snap of a finger is extremely impressive. The first week of classes with Enjolras is smoother than his students really expected. In the lecture hall, he always has to glare the projector into submission before his presentations actually start working. At home, the only glaring Enjolras does is at his webcam while he fumbles with it for a minute to display himself and the TV that serves as his projector. Nobody in the class complains because that expression could potentially be featured heavily in daydreams and doodles.

Even in the comfort of his own home, Prof. Enjolras still wears his button-down shirts, sometimes accompanied by a black suit or red tie, but always looking impeccable and neat. Surprisingly, the background is just as neat, the color of the wall behind him complementing the mantle and the decor looking aesthetically pleasing. Given how plain Enjolras’s presentations are, it’s no question that his spouse is the artistic one. However, Prof. Enjolras doesn’t allow his students time to be nosy and instead jumps right into talking about the government and all its flaws.

Halfway through the lecture, the students hurriedly write down notes. Those who finish early look up just in time to catch a glimpse of iced coffee in a reusable cup being placed on Enjolras’s desk. Only those who are the most detail-oriented catch the paint-stained hand with a matching ring that is barely visible from the edge of a soft green sweater.

The physical proof that Enjolras is married, besides the wedding rings, is like a jolt to the system. Prof. Enjolras is notoriously closed about his private life, but he made it clear that his partner is a _he_ on the first day of lectures. No student has ever heard nor seen what The Husband looks like, so the anticipation of meeting the person who managed to snag their handsome professor is overwhelming.

The hand rests on Enjolras’s desk for a minute before nimble fingers reach out to give his blond ponytail a gentle flick. Prof. Enjolras pauses for a moment to look up and nod at whatever his husband says. Half the class is stuck staring at their computers, at how soft their professor’s eyes get and how relaxed his usually stiff posture becomes. The other half raise their eyebrows when Prof. Enjolras answers, and his voice is much gentler and filled with a different type of emotion than when he’s talking about politics. The students who have their heads buried in their notebooks immediately snap to attention.

“Just twenty more minutes,” Prof. Enjolras says, and the hand that has been playing with his hair disappears for the rest of the lecture. Apparently, the class is shocked enough that no questions are asked for the remainder of the lecture. Enjolras gives his normal spiel about keeping up with assignments and how he’ll answer any questions through email.

* * *

For two more weeks, the students barely see The Husband except when he walks in quickly to deliver coffee, Enjolras muting himself so nobody hears what they say when his attention wanders for a moment. The Husband walks out just as quickly, and Prof. Enjolras is back in lecture mode as if nothing ever disrupted him.

The fourth week is when a major breakthrough on The Husband Mystery occurs. Prof. Enjolras is clicking through slides when he visibly winces. A second later, a black and white blob appears on his head, reaching forward to sniff at the webcam. The cat plops herself in Enjolras’s lap before climbing up onto the desk and declaring his keyboard as her throne.

Prof. Enjolras, now thoroughly distracted by his kitty, laughs a little while thirty-something students watch in awe. When he finally seems to notice his class, his cheeks turn a little pink, and he introduces his cat as Patria, to absolutely nobody’s surprise. Enjolras reaches out, probably to turn his webcam off, still petting the cat, but a door slamming open interrupts him. Patria bites at his fingers. The Husband rushes in.

“Sorry, sorry!” the man exclaims as he enters the frame to remove Patria from Enjolras’s lap. The students don’t see his face, but they see enough of his torso and the tops of his thighs. He’s obviously shorter than their professor based on what the students see when Prof. Enjolras stands up. While Enjolras is lean with broad shoulders and a slim waist, his husband is slightly thicker, muscular with a particular softness. Given how large the sweaters and hoodies that The Husband wears, the students safely assume that most of them are Prof. Enjolras’s.

His fingers peek out of the too-long sleeves of the red hoodie he’s wearing to lift Patria into his arms, only to place a kitten on Enjolras’s head. The affronted expression on his face causes his husband to laugh merrily. The laugh is as sweet and clear as bells, and the way Enjolras looks up and _stares_ at him is enough to show just how much he loves his husband.

“I couldn’t find Patria for a minute there,” The Husband continues, his voice softer and intimate as he talks to Prof. Enjolras. The students all long to see his face, probably just as smitten as their professor’s face is, a sharp contrast to his usual serious expression. The Husband leaves the frame with their cat, saying, “I think we disrupted him enough. We all know he needs to rant for at least a minute to get all thoughts of dismantling the patriarchy out of his head.”

The students observe as their professor straightens his clothes and scans the chat, facial features rearranging themselves from “smitten kitten” to Professeur Enjolras in the blink of an eye. Prof. Enjolras unhooks the kitten from his hair and explains to the class, “This is Liberté, one of Patria’s kittens. Alright, that's enough from me. This time is for being educated, not for me to answer personal questions,” also to absolutely nobody’s surprise. “As I was saying…”

* * *

Not long after that, the students finally get a face reveal. The fifth week has been rough, content being thrown at their faces. Prof. Enjolras is good at what he does, but he’s the type of professor who wouldn’t let anybody off the hook, even if they begged for their lives. The students work hard to earn their grades, so they learn to appreciate their hard work.

Twelve hours of class online is as difficult on Prof. Enjolras as it is for his students, and while he doesn’t show it, he’s tired. One day, he starts lecturing a slide he hasn’t clicked to for ten minutes and scrubs a hand over his face when he notices all the blank stares at last. Enjolras still reminds them all to finish their essays ahead of the deadline before clicking at his screen, assuming he’s ended the meeting. He loosens his tie, exposing his neck and a tiny sliver of his chest.

Right when he leans back against his chair, computer still on, his husband enters the room, wearing an oversized sweater in what the students assume to be his favorite green. However, it’s when he goes and sits in Prof. Enjolras’s lap that they all notice how he’s wearing the tiniest pair of shorts, legs bare and covered with paint stains, instead of his normal black skinny jeans. Because he’s straddling Enjolras’s waist, the students don’t get to see his face, only his back and tendrils of curly black hair.

The way The Husband buries his face in Prof. Enjolras’s neck and the way Enjolras wraps his arms around him, clutching tightly to the back of his sweater shows the students still watching just how much they love each other.

“You’re tired,” he whispers, just loud enough for the microphone to catch it. Prof. Enjolras just sighs, and his husband leans back to card long fingers through his blond hair. “Take a break, love. You’ve been working too hard.”

“I’m fine.”

Enjolras’s husband hums, soft and low. He caresses Prof. Enjolras’s neck and shoulders, massaging a little. “Quarantine doesn’t mean you have to work extra. Your lectures are as amazing as they always have been,” he whispers, lips just inches away from Enjolras’s.

The students are once again surprised to hear Prof. Enjolras snort, “That’s only because I stay up late to make sure they’re as amazing as you say.”

That answer doesn’t seem to satisfy The Husband, as he reaches up to cup Enjolras’s face tenderly with both hands, smoothing his thumbs against his sharp cheekbones. “No,” he says, dragging the word out. “It’s because you’re ridiculously passionate about what you love, and you know what you’re talking about. There’s not much in this world I believe in, but I believe in you and your uncanny ability to give good lectures.”

Prof. Enjolras looks up with a gentle expression, and that’s when his husband leans forward to kiss him. Although the kiss is chaste, the students can see how intimate it is, with Enjolras’s fingers curving under the sweater to rest on The Husband’s hips. Prof. Enjolras blinks, slightly dazed when his husband pulls away, like his eyes are pretty much urging him to sleep. The Husband presses another kiss to his cheek and murmurs, “Go take a shower and then we can cuddle.”

Those who know Professeur Enjolras know that he’s not normally one to take orders, but the smile that grows on his face looks like the sun peeking out from the clouds. He wraps an arm around The Husband’s waist and sets him on his feet, both shuffling off to the side with promises of dinner or something.

The students diligently still in the meeting automatically start freaking out about what they have just witnessed, blowing up the chat with lots of emoticons and excited messages. Five minutes on the Zoom gave them more information about their favorite professor than anyone at Sciences Po ever had while Prof. Enjolras taught there. He’s able to shoot down any personal questions with a glance, but just then, the way he treats his partner and his cats - it’s all been witnessed. It’s such a one-eighty from what the students see that their minds are absolutely blown.

Everyone chats excitedly, but when sounds start up again from Prof. Enjolras’s end, they all still in anticipation. Of course, that’s when The Husband walks in and starts straightening the room and clearing away Enjolras’s mess. He steps far away enough from the screen that finally, _finally_ , the students catch a glimpse of his face. Like they all expected, he’s _beautiful_ , to say the least, and many of the students find themselves with their jaws on the floor while blushing uncontrollably. Honestly, they should all be used to having attractive blue eyes fixed on their souls, but while their professor’s eyes are piercing and challenging, his husband’s are soft, almost like anyone could lose themselves in them.

Soft could really be the word to describe him in general. The Husband has fluffy hair, curls flopping over his forehead, and his face is symmetrical save for the red smear of paint on his left cheek. There’s a light dusting of stubble on his cheeks that contrasts with Prof. Enjolras’s clean-shaven face. He sings under his breath, but loudly enough for everyone to hear, while wandering around the room, causing all the students to smile stupidly.

It’s not until The Husband approaches the desk to steal some of Prof. Enjolras’s coffee that he notices that the meeting is still open and he’s had an audience for quite a while. He looks shy and blushes all of a sudden. The man glances at the door before speaking in a quiet voice, “Oh, hello. Enj talks about you all a lot. Even though that man has a lot to say about what he teaches, I know it’s you who makes him love what he does. Sometimes, I worry about his sanity, so please, do your homework, stay in online school, and double-check your essays, so he doesn’t get all Professeur Grumpy-pants at me about some minor spelling issues.”

The students all hold their breath after nodding while The Husband’s blue eyes search the screen and his mouth quirks up in amusement, definitely from reading the chat. There's a smile on his face that tells them all exactly why Enjolras fell in love with him, and he gives them a tiny wave, his ring glinting, and winks while ending the Zoom. Correctly.

After that whole encounter, the only appearances The Husband makes are of his arms, handing Prof. Enjolras coffee or taking a kitten out of his lap (and sometimes putting one on his head). The students agree unanimously that they absolutely must find out who he actually is. Their stubborn professor literally has no social media because he’s mentally about forty years older than he actually is, but after searching his name and all the variants of it, they come across a photo of Enjolras receiving his degree while his husband, dressed in a nice suit, stands next to him.

Someone manages to find an Instagram account after a reverse image search, and that’s where they happen across a whole treasure trove of content. The account, @r_tist (a pun for his name, Grantaire a.k.a “ _R_ ”), is public with a few hundred thousand followers, and everyone is shocked that they haven’t seen it before. It’s extremely aesthetic and features many lovely landscape paintings from France’s countryside and occasionally a painting of one very familiar face and some kittens. Every twenty posts or so, there’s a cute selfie of Grantaire himself, sometimes with Enjolras in it with him. It’s clear Prof. Enjolras would rather be a little less famous, but he’s smiling at his husband in every single picture of him.

When the students are done stalking Grantaire, his follower count increases by more than thirty, and the last picture with Enjolras receives tons of comments and heart emojis for the best professor at Sciences Po.

* * *

Everyone is slightly apprehensive for the next lecture, in which Prof. Enjolras would, without a doubt, address the stalking. However, while the students fidget in their chairs, the lecture passes without a mention of one Monsieur Grantaire. Until they’re putting their last questions in the chat, and Enjolras’s voice rings out, loud and clear.

“I’ve been reliably informed that many of you have insatiable curiosity about the private aspects of my life. I wouldn’t normally condone this behavior, but I… thought it was slightly endearing. My husband and I appreciate your comments and-”

As if right on cue, Grantaire slides into frame behind Enjolras’s chair, and it’s so easy to see how wonderfully they complement each other. Grantaire wraps his arms around Enjolras’s shoulders and smushes their cheeks together, grinning broadly.

“And for those who were wondering, I painted all the backdrops for our wedding photos and picked out our suits while Enj stood there, completely useless and in awe.”

Prof. Enjolras’s eyes widen mid-eyeroll. “Wait. Our wedding photos? From like four years ago?”

“Four years and too many Instagram posts ago.”

The disappointed expression on Prof. Enjolras’s face should be patented. “That’s so-”

“So nice and caring of your students,” Grantaire finishes as he shoots a pointed look at his husband. With a sigh, Enjolras smiles at his students. “Right. Nice and caring. And persistent. I wish you all would use that same time and effort with your assignments.”

Grantaire smirks a little and comments, “Because of that, Enj will now get an Instagram.”

“No, R, I'm not,” Enjolras says, exasperated. “And no, you all won’t be coming to my apartment to pet my cats.”

Grantaire laughs and so do the students because Prof. Enjolras is trying so hard to be serious when his husband is the complete opposite. He glances at the clock and closes out the meeting with some housekeeping notes. Before he can end it, Grantaire waves goodbye and blows a kiss to Enjolras’s students. The only option left is for them to spam Grantaire’s posts with #ProfEnjShouldGetAnInsta.

* * *

The last time the students see their beloved Grantaire is the last day before finals. Prof. Enjolras doesn’t lecture, but he does a light review over the content in preparation. After answering some last minute questions, he gives his best wishes to them all and mentions something about hoping to see them around campus in the future.

Many of the students get a bit emotional when thanking their teacher one last time. Professeur Enjolras is strict and private about everything that doesn’t involve his students’ academic success, but he smiles when some students promise to sit in on his lectures as often as possible. He clicks his mouse, but instead of what should be exiting out of the Zoom tab, he only minimizes it. The chat buzzes with excitement, and sure enough, Grantaire comes in right as Enjolras stands up and steps away from his desk. Once again, he’s wearing his iconic shorts and a soft red sweater.

Grantaire rises onto his tiptoes and wraps his arms around Enjolras’s neck, and Enjolras hugs him close, arms around his waist. Grantaire presses his lips to his husband’s for a moment and asks, “Are you done, love?”

“Mhm. Only finals and then we can sleep in all we want.”

“You’re gonna get so tired of me.”

“How can I when I love you?” 

Prof. Enjolras brings their foreheads together, and his students watch on in absolute wonder as their professor kisses Grantaire deeply and desperately. They knew Professeur Enjolras could get worked up and all angry and stuff about the government, but they never expected him to execute _that_ so smoothly, especially since Grantaire was the one to initiate all PDA prior. It's such a wild thing to witness their strict and serious professor, who lectures students making out in the hallways to get to class on time, kiss his husband with such fiery passion. Grantaire’s eyes slide shut, dark eyelashes falling against soft cheeks, and he presses into it, taking the affection and returning it eagerly.

When Enjolras’s hand slips further down to cup Grantaire’s butt, the students start typing furiously and averting their eyes from their screens. Especially when Prof. Enjolras starts giving his husband’s neck _quite a lot of attention_. It’s obvious that Grantaire says something snarky before Enjolras shoots him a _look_ that has his students all blushing horribly.

* * *

It’s not until they’re cuddled up to each other in bed that Enjolras goes through his emails while Grantaire dozes lightly on his chest, tapping on the one that’s basically yelling at him to read. He scans over it and groans before showing it to Grantaire, who blinks his eyes open, only to begin laughing.

“How are you already an old man? Ending a Zoom is literally the easiest thing to do,” Grantaire giggles while wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

“Maybe it’s because _someone_ always comes in while wearing my hoodies and sweaters and a pair of booty shorts.”

Grantaire blushes and buries his face in Enjolras’s chest. “What’s yours is mine, love.”

Enjolras hums thoughtfully while plugging his phone back in. He turns around to lay a hand on Grantaire’s thigh before shifting it higher until he’s squeezing his ass. Enjolras presses their foreheads together, grinning smugly. “So this? Is it mine too?”

Grantaire rolls his eyes and snuggles closer, whispering affectionately, “You’re so silly.”

“I’m serious!”

“Sure.”

“Love you.”

A kiss. “I love you more.”

"Impossible."

On Enjolras’s phone’s screen, the email is still open.

* * *

_From: Gavroche Thénardier_

_Subject: Prof. Enjolras, READ THIS I’M BEGGING YOU_

_Hey Professeur,_

_I’m just letting you know that you left your Zoom open earlier, and everyone got to see you copping a feel of M. R’s butt._

_In other news, I might steal your kittens. They’re adorable._

_\- Gav :)_

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s my [Tumblr](http://cx-shhhh.tumblr.com/)...  
> I post a lot of Les Mis stuff, so perhaps something will grab your interest?
> 
> You all have _no idea_ how hard it was to type "The Husband" and how relieving it was to finally type "Grantaire". In this fic, I imagined Grantaire looking like George Blagden in his twenties (as I often do). Especially _that one GIF_ of him fixing his beanie and then staring forward... ?


End file.
